Stained Silver
by MHProductions
Summary: **WARNING: Child abuse** Father and I were never really on good terms for most of my life. That's clear even from him. Every bad thing was always my fault. His losses in Gym battles, the quality of his grunts' work, his inability to raise his own son, you name it. You'll finally get to hear my side of the story, and how I turned into the jerk you know me as today.
1. Chapter 1: Home

**Chapter 1: Home**

I still don't understand it sometimes. I don't understand why Father treated me the way he did, or why Mother didn't seem to care. Even after nine years of trying, I still can't wrap my head around it. But when you're five, and those are the only real role models you have, it's not like you think very much about it.  
I remember the halls of the house. Most of the time, they were filled with crying or screaming. Father was usually the cause of it. Of course, I thought nothing of it. He was just being a parent, wasn't he? He was just disciplining me, right? It was tough love, wasn't it? Yeah, the blood stains on the carpet? They were my fault. How about when he lost a Gym battle? That was my fault, too. His grunts failed to do anything productive? Yeah, that was me. It was always my fault. I was always such a failure.  
Or, at least, that's what Father would say.  
Oh, Father. He was the one who really made that house stand out. When he wasn't at work, he was beating me for whatever was putting him in a bad mood today. Did he lose his focus while training for the next big Gym battle? He'd get out the closest knife and slash up my arms, telling me that it was my fault for making them weak. Did Mother come in to argue about her salary again? After he was done with her, he'd move on to me. Did he get impatient when it came to his whole _Project Andromeda_? He'd find an excuse to beat on me to pass the time. But at five, what was _Project Andromeda_? Just something a child couldn't possibly understand, that's for sure.  
Or, at least, that's what Father would think.  
What makes a house a home? What separates the two? Could any mere house be a home? No, of course not. A house is just four walls and a roof. A house can have the best furnishings money can buy, but that can never, ever make it a home. Home is comfort, isn't it? Comforting, inviting, cozy. Home is a sanctuary, a refuge from the world.  
A house full of fear, full of constant bloodshed, full of horror is not a home. A house where your live in terror of your father's next outburst, in anxiety of your mother's next visit, in despair that you can never leave is not a home. That house was not a home.  
So, what do you do in that situation? Do you try and leave the only source of protection you had of the snow or rain? Do you stay, and risk another beating or lecture from your father? Death by nature, or death by your father's hand? No matter how you slice it, it's damned if you do, damned if you don't.  
When you're five, you can't rationalize that kind of thing, though. There is no understanding of _Project Andromeda_ or abuse or hypocrisy. There is no understanding of healthy and unhealthy relationships or that some people really just don't care about what you're going through. The only thing you understand is that every bad thing that happens is your fault. It's your fault that Father hits you, punches you, kicks you, cuts you, and strangles you. It's your fault that Mother doesn't care about your well-being. It's your fault that _Project Andromeda_ is going too slow. It's your fault that Mother couldn't pay child support, and thus it's your fault that you're stuck with and abusive father. Everything is your fault.  
Ah, those hallways. I think the bloodstains on the walls are still there, if that house is still even standing. Who moved in there? Who saw the scars of our lives plastered on the walls, stained on the carpet, echoing in the halls?  
I just don't understand. I didn't then, and I still don't now. How could the failure of _Project Andromeda_ be my fault? How could the failure of Father's subordinates be my fault? How could his need for complete control over others be my fault?  
I still don't understand it sometimes. Even after nine years of trying, I still can't wrap my head around it...


	2. Chapter 2: Strong Enough

**Chapter 2: Strong Enough**

Well, here we go again. Father had just gotten the word back from the branch working on _Project Andromeda_ , and he was throwing a fit. Again. Of course, he didn't tell me that. I just knew from his body language when it was about _Project Andromeda_.

He always had a kind of attitude when it came to _Project Andromeda_. It's not like he was that great of a parent normally, but whenever it came up, he was much worse than his usual display. He was always aiming for the face when he beat me over it. I'd been given two black eyes, a bloody nose, a split lip, and coughed up blood this time. I was surprised he didn't put me through worse than that. I was only in the hospital for two days instead of the usual fourteen. Father had lied about what happened, of course. This time, I apparently fell down the stairs. Yeah, sure.

I didn't bother to speak up, though. It'd just make life worse for me when I went back to that house. After what happened last time, I was _not_ going through that again. One beating was enough for now.

But if you thought Father was done with me for two days, then you've never met him. If Father was anything when it came to his goals, it was impatient. And that included training his heir to Team Rocket's throne.

All throughout my stay there, he'd keep trying to convince me that I'd only go through worse as the head of Team Rocket. But that was when no one was around. He quickly changed his tune to say that I'd inherit his position as Viridian City Gym Leader if any nurses or doctors were in. But the moment they left, it was "Team Rocket" this and "Team Rocket" that. Maybe he intended for me to have both roles, like him. Or was he just saying that to save face? Was it both? It's impossible to tell with Father. But, of course, I believed him. What else are you supposed to do? When you're five, every adult in your life is always trying to help you and is always telling you the truth in your eyes. Father's only abusing you because he's trying to train you for your future job! It's not that he doesn't actually care about you or is just a violent sociopath!

So, of course, I did what many a five-year-old does. I latched on to every word he said like it was the absolute truth. If I was going to be my father's child, I had to be able to handle worse than what he was throwing at me. I needed to be strong! I needed to be a stronger man! And Father was going to help me with that.

Or, at least, that's what I was supposed to think.

x-x-x

After we got back, Father left me alone for a while. I took this opportunity to finally have some time to myself. Well, as much as I was allowed, anyway. Father could, and usually would, come in whenever he wanted for whatever reason. Looking back, I doubt he'd risk beating me again so soon after we got back, but I was five! I couldn't rationalize that at the time! So I just sat there on my bed, hugging a pillow and trying not to cry. I can only assume I failed miserably, but since Father never did anything about it, I just kept on going. I kept telling myself that I couldn't be doing that, that I needed to be stronger, that I needed to be strong enough to take it!

But did I really need to be?

This was probably the start of something. Remember how I said that at five years old, I couldn't rationalize "damned if you do, damned if you don't?" Well, while there is indeed truth to that claim, that doesn't mean I couldn't make connections. And something clicked that day.

Maybe Father lied about how he was treating me because he was afraid of being punished. I wouldn't blame him there. I would've had to lie if it meant I'd only get screamed at instead of beaten to the floor. So if Father lied about something to get out of being punished, there was probably something wrong with how he was treating me.

Like he was doing something wrong, but he didn't want anyone to know about it.


	3. Chapter 3: Get Out Alive

**Chapter 3: Get Out Alive**

So, now I had the idea in my head that Father was doing something wrong. Mainly, his treatment of me. Now, what's a five year old to do?

I actually didn't have an answer to that.

Sure, I could try to figure out something, but what kind of thinking would that require? A child only has a rudimentary sense of planning. They can't see the big picture and everything that could go wrong as well as they can when they mature. So, imagine my thought process for a moment. If Father was lying about what was happening, he had to be doing something wrong. If that was the case, then I'd could leave! He couldn't hurt me if I was gone, could he?

Of course, having the long-term planning of a child, I didn't go in with any plan at all. Well, except for waiting until nightfall. That's it. Nothing else.

So, now I'm stuck outside in the middle of the night with no other plan besides "get out of town as soon as possible" and no idea where I'm going. Father only let me go when and where he wanted me to go. So, of course, I'm wandering aimlessly, trying to find a way out of this city.

I felt my heart pounding. Oh, what if Father found out? I'd probably get another beating...

No, no, I couldn't think about that now. I had to get out of here. Now!

With that in mind, I bolted, not in any particular direction.

x-x-x

I stumbled through the tall grass, breathing heavily. Where even _was_ I? I didn't even care at this point, I just had to get out alive! I heard footsteps behind me. No! No, I wasn't going to be caught! Not now!

I felt something slam into my side, knocking me to the ground. I bit back a scream, feeling a burning pain in my ribs. I looked for the Pokémon that attacked me, and saw what I now know is a Rattata.

I tried to get back up, but I had such a hard time breathing. The Pokémon kept attacking me, and I tried so hard not to scream. I finally pushed it away, and ran away as fast as I could. But, of course, I could hardly breathe. I finally made it out, collapsing from pain and exhaustion. Well, there weren't any more footsteps behind me... was that a good sign or a bad sign?

I rose to my feet, deciding not to find out the hard way. I was limping now, stumbling through the next patch of grass. Nothing approached me this time. There was a building just ahead of me. I just needed to get through it...!

I collapsed just inside the building, groaning in pain. The sentry looked over at me.

"Sir? Are you all right?" he asked, and a few people approached me. I couldn't seem to formulate a response, so I just lay there. Oh, it hurt to breathe...!

Everyone around me was panicking through my hazy senses, now. I rose to my feet again, and found myself horribly lightheaded. A few people surrounded me, and I felt some of them trying to steady me. I stumbled again, and then blacked out.

x-x-x

When I came to, I was laying in a hospital bed. Oh, boy! Here we go again! At least I didn't have to come up with a convincing lie this time. Of course, I'm certain it just created more questions, but they didn't seem to bother asking them. A five year old boy isn't really a good source of information. So, of course, they had to wait for Father to show up. He never did in my time there. He must've been saving it for when I got back.

Then again, maybe he just had work. He seemed to like putting his job over his own son, after all. Whatever the reason, he never popped in. Not that I had any issue with that, though. It got me away from him for a while, after all.

And then the day came that I had to go back.

Of course, you can guess how I felt about that. I protested, saying that I didn't want to go back there, that I didn't want to go through that again. I must not have been very clear on what I didn't want to go through again, though...

The sentry decided he'd escort me back to Viridian City, since Father wasn't going to do it. I think that was the first time I'd ever seen someone battle with a Pokémon. Father never let me watch his battles, for whatever reason. I remember that his Growlithe didn't appear to have a Poké Ball that he confined it to. The sentry is the one who really stands out in my memory to me. There was something oddly mysterious about him. He seemed hesitant to battle, but he also couldn't be held responsible for the avoidable death of a child. So, of course, when push came to shove, he didn't have much of a choice.

x-x-x

By the time we'd made it back, Father was at work. Not at the Gym, but at his other job. The sentry didn't say anything about that. What exactly was he thinking? I still have no clue, even after meeting him nine years ago...

I was halfway to the door of the house when the sentry spoke up again.

"Sir."

I turned to look at him.

"I know that I really shouldn't do this, but I need this off of my hands. I don't know anyone I can trust, but..."

He shook his head, sighing. I was about to speak, but he stopped me. He handed me a rather large sky blue Egg. He lowered his voice when he spoke again.

"I shouldn't be doing this, but I can't think of an alternative. Look, this Egg has something really important in it. When it hatches, I want you to protect the Pokémon that's inside. Don't let anyone else know it exists. It's a very special Pokémon. Understand?"

I nodded. The sentry then turned his back to me. As he left, I could swear he morphed into something. It wasn't human, but it wasn't like any Pokémon I'd ever seen before, either. Pink, sleek, and feline-looking, it looked back at me with blue eyes. Finally, it took off, seemingly disappearing in the process. Its Growlithe looked around, confused. He barked, trying to follow the Pokémon, but to no avail. I was about to offer Growlithe to stay with me, until I remembered what Father would most likely do. It was also entirely possible that Growlithe was only loyal to his Trainer and not some random kid on the street. There's no way Growlithe would listen to me.

I heard Growlithe howling as I went inside. I couldn't leave him! There's no telling what would happen to him! I could earn his trust! But then what would Father do if he found out?

I'd waited too long, because Growlithe was gone the next time I looked outside. I so desperately wanted to go after him, but then what would I do? I couldn't have him in a Poké Ball, because I legally wasn't old enough yet. I'd have to wait at least five or six years, and I didn't have that time with Father around. Who knew if I was going to survive to see next Christmas? And then there was the fact that Father wouldn't want me having a Pokémon at five years old...

I looked down at the Egg the sentry gave me. Little did I know how much this would change my life. Just looking at it was enough to make me do the unthinkable.

I smiled.

I quickly stopped with that. I wouldn't want Father seeing me happy like that. But still, I was _happy_. That was something Father had never achieved as far as I could remember. I held the Egg closer to me and began to pace the house, a smile on my face all throughout, until I finally hid it in my room when I heard Father coming home.

And my joy disappeared when Father said that Mother was coming to visit.


	4. Chapter 4: Dark Lady

**Chapter 4: Dark Lady**

I never really considered it, but it's not hard to see where I got my physical traits. Mother had the same crimson hair as me, and it was also rather long. It curled over her shoulders and also formed a tip above her forehead, much like mine. She tended to have a hand on her hip, a sharp, intimidating, smug expression, complete with that arrogant smirk... Absolutely disgusting. Unlike me, her eyes were the same crimson as her hair. I don't know where I got my silver eyes. Father's were black, so I believe the gene was there, but if things had worked differently, would my name be different?

Mother would always fight with Father, but it was never about how he treated me. It was always her pay. It was always about how she didn't get paid enough to do these lowly things, or how she needed to have a more productive role in Team Rocket, or how she deserved such-and-such other thing.

They'd very frequently get physical with each other. I always hid in my room. There's no way I was getting in between those two! Father would usually come into my room, badly battered. Oddly, however, it seemed like Mother took the fight out of him. He never took out his frustrations out on me. Quite the opposite, in fact. He would always buy me some kind of gift, like a new clothes or sweets or things like that. And he did the same to Mother, just as Mother did to him.

But the peace didn't last. Why would it? Mother would stick around for a few weeks and then leave after those awful fights with Father. And this particular visit wasn't much of a change of pace at all. Mother came in while we were having dinner. She just sat down like she'd always lived there, and we were all supposed to act like she had!

I made the mistake of questioning it. I never remember having done it before, or why I did it now, but I did. And that really got to Father. He grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me into the living room, where he proceeded to throw me onto the floor.

"Son!" he snapped. "You do not disrespect your mother like that!"

He went on ranting about... honestly, I don't remember. I kind of zoned out. That is, until he decided to get back to Mother. He brought up _Project Andromeda_ , and they talked about it for a while. I didn't get to hear much at all before they decided to take the conversation into another room.

I snuck my way back into the dining room, and I found that Father had left a few papers behind. I skimmed over some of them, seeing if I could extract anything out of it. I saw a diagram of that thing the sentry turned into, but nothing it said made any sense at all. I saw images of something in the shape of a pink amorphous blob with a dopey-looking face, and that was all I got to see before I darted away at the sound of Father's footsteps.

"Son! Come here!"

His voice... was that mocking cheerfulness when he wanted to lure me into something. No. I wasn't falling for it.

"Come on, son!"

If... if he came in here, it would probably be worse for me...

Finally, I got up and tried my hardest not to show my fear. Mother greeted me, that disgusting smirk on her face that she always had when she was showering someone with gifts, pretending to be nice to them.

"Son," Father said, "we've discussed it, and we've decided that your training will start tomorrow."

 _Training?_

Mother presented me a black shirt with a large, red "R" on the chest.

The symbol of Team Rocket.

"Go upstairs and change, Silver." Mother said. I made my way upstairs and into my room, flopped on my bed, and curled up into a pathetic fetal position. What was I going to do? Did I try to run away again? No, that would only bring me back to where I started. What else could I do, then? What else _was_ there I could do?

I heard noises coming from where I hid the Egg. There was something about that Egg that made me so... _happy._ Was it the Egg, or whatever was inside? Whatever it was, it made me _happy!_

I saw something out the window for a brief moment, but it was gone just as quickly. I picked up the Egg and held it in my arms, and I saw a tiny crack in the shell.

I paced around the room, cradling this Egg in my arms. This went on for a bit, before I hid it again, just in case Father came in.


End file.
